


Blinded By The Light

by taichara



Category: Saint Seiya
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 20:05:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2360612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taichara/pseuds/taichara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Saint of the Hounds has a little problem with mind-reading, bright light, and a little too much to drink.  Maybe a lot of that last, really ...</p><p>Alas for him, Misty is going to fix him -- or flatten him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blinded By The Light

**Author's Note:**

> _prompt: any, any, tell the horrible bright thing in the sky to go away_

_Nnnnggghhh …_

Were there dancing calamari doing the – what was it called – the can-can across the room?

_Lemme sleep damn it, it’s not morning yet or anything …_

They _were_ calamari. Dancing calamari and the damned things kept shining spotlights on his face, _why_. Asterion waggled a hand at the offending seafood before flopping over and hiding his face in tangled sandy hair; go away, stupid things, and let a body get some rest, those rabbits were exhausting –

_~ Asterion if you don’t get up yesterday I am beating you into pulp ~_

_!!!!_

If there was one force in Sanctuary that could drag Canes Venatici Asterion to attention in heartbeats, it was surely no Gold Saint. Hah, not likely. Besides, what Gold would bother? No, it was the wrath of an angry Lizard that propelled the Saint of Hounds clear halfway across his quarters, stumbling in his own clothes as he went, before he’d actually woken up. Lacerta Misty was the ruler of the Silver Saint roost, and he didn’t take sass – real or imagined – from his confederates.

A flash of blinding sunlight stabbed, somehow, into Asterion’s face; he clamped his hands over his eyes, groaning – and staggering into his scarred wooden table – as Misty rolled his own eyes heavenward in a clear plea for patience.

“It’s almost _noon_ , idiot. Do you honestly think you’re going to get away with this every time someone else wins a Cloth? There’s going to be dozens of the little bastards in the next couple of months.  
“How much did you drink, anyway?”

“… Ehhhn. Enough. Enough to turn off the cacophony, anyway. Why?”

With no more sudden bolts of mysterious sunniness forthcoming, Asterion dared to uncover his face in order to fix a bleary stare onto the irritated Lizard. And oh yes was Misty irritated – from the crown of his golden-curled head to the toes of his impatiently-tapping foot, Lacerta Misty was the very picture of aggravated Silver Saint. Lovely.

_Damn it, Misty, you know why I did it in the first place, what is this, sudden onset of a new sadistic streak?_

Blue eyes sparked with extra annoyance as Misty’s brows drew together.

“Aaaand you’re projecting all over the damn place. Lock it down, Hounds, and I don’t give two clipped drachma that you’re hungover either. You’re going to make us all look bad and get the high and mighty down on our heads.”

_… Damnit._

Asterion promptly clamped down on his leaking thoughts, wincing at the twinges of his aching head. Why oh why oh _why_ did his cosmo have to saddle him with wild telepathy? The multiattack modes were plenty useful enough, thank you Athena, he didn’t need _this_. 

He didn’t need to get front row seats in everyone else’s head every time things started to heat up, damn it.

Misty’s wry drawl caught his attention up again; his fellow Silver had crossed the space between them in an eyeblink to tap him on the nose with a small hand-mirror.

“So _I’m_ here to pound shielding into your thick skull or turn you into a smashed cantaloupe, whatever happens first. Better me than, oh, Virgo, Asterion; you’re a lucky guy.”

*tap tap* went the mirror, before it was flicked at the table as Misty pivoted away and whisked himself towards the door –

“And get dressed, for the love of Athena, before you scare the trainees or something. You’re such a rake, Asterion.”

– and he was gone, blasting wretched daylight in Asterion’s face before the door mercifully swung closed.

-*-

“You’re getting sick glee out of this, aren’t you, Lacerta.”

The muttered complaint was less a question, more flat statement of fact. Misty didn’t terribly worry about contesting it, exactly, perched on a column’s shattered stump as he marched his ‘student’ through the paces of wrestling his cosmo under proper control again. Why would he, when the beautiful cloudless sky and the battered white marble were jabbing at Asterion far more than his little mirror trick ever managed?

Then again –

“I wouldn’t call it _glee_ , exactly, but I’m definitely enjoying watching you have to fight uphill to get yourself shielded properly.  
“Look at it this way – if you can get it right _now_ , you’re probably going to get damn near any time you want afterwards. Call it training under friendly fire, if you want.”

Slinging sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes, Asterion snorted.

“Yeah, sure. Why’d you volunteer for this anyway? It’s not like you to be this helpful when there’s competitions going on.”

“Because I’m only an asshole most of the time. Come on, Asterion, that’s the hangover talking.”

Misty’s sudden smile was positively beatific in its deviltry.

“ _Now_ block against me _and_ my strikes or it’s going to be more than a hangover you’re nursing.  
“Unless you _want_ to be smashed flat, get moving –“

The blows rained down, a blur pale as marble; Asterion set his feet in statue-solid stance, grit his teeth, and countered with Million Star Ghosts as he clamped down on his shields under Misty’s mental assault.

A brilliant flash, behind his eyes –

A sudden blessed silence reigned inside his head.

_Yes –_


End file.
